White Carnations
by Lil' Amethyst Angel
Summary: He thinks she’s saving him from drowning, but really, now they’re just drowning together. Nick and Kelly play out a twisted romance while trying to cope with the aftershocks.
1. Walking Backwards

White Carnations

Chapter 1: Walking Backwards

It has been almost a week since the day Kelly Gordon showed up at the crime lab.

It has been almost a week of Nick being unable to stop thinking about her.

He finds himself thinking about her, her face, her voice, remembering the few short conversations they had shared. He tries not to, but she always manages to creep back into his thoughts. It must be because she had stirred up old memories, he reasons. That's why his mind keeps drifting back to her. It's understandable. She was, after all, a big part of what happened all those months ago. His subconscious was just picking up on that after seeing her. Yep, perfectly understandable.

"Nick?"

Nick's head snaps up at the sound of Warrick's voice.

"What?"

"You've been scowling at your locker for the last five minutes." The taller man says, amusement clear in his tone.

"Uh, right." Nick feels his face reddening. "I was thinking. Must have zoned out."

"Right." Warrick drawls. "Here I was thinking the locker did something to piss you off." He watches as Nick scuttles around, getting his belongings together, refusing to meet his friend's eyes. Warrick's brow furrows. "Everything okay?"

Nick makes himself turn to face his friend, forcing a smile onto his lips.

"Yeah, everything's great, man." Nick hopes his voice doesn't sound as fake he thinks it does. It must not since Warrick just smiles and nods. "Well, I'll see ya." Nick moves his hand in a way resembling that of a wave.

"Take care, Nicky."

He hears the words as the door closes behind him.

That's what Warrick says every time they part now. Not "bye" or "see ya later, man", but "take care". Nick's not sure why, but it bothers him.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

When Nick arrives home, sunlight is peaking through the cracks of the blinds. He immediately strips down and falls into bed. His eyes are squeezed shut. As tired as he is, he doesn't want to sleep. He's scared of sleep. Sleep brings horrors and monsters he'd rather forget. Sleep brings light. His nightmares are never engulfed in darkness, but wrapped in blinding brightness. It's not the darkness he fears, it's the light- the fluorescent lights and their green glow.

Nick eventually drifts off anyway, his body finally taking over.

A few hours later he wakes up, shaking and drenched in sweat, just like he has every night since he got home from the hospital. He can't remember what he dreamt about in the hospital. Everything was hazy in a drug-induced fog. He imagines he probably had nightmares then too, but they were never like this, never this bad.

This has been Nick's routine for the past few months; staying awake until he can't any longer, then waking up clammy and trembling a few hours later. Usually he lies still until he either falls back to sleep or it's time to get up, but today is different. While he lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling blankly, a face appears in his mind. The same face that has been plaguing him of late. Kelly. He just wants her out of his head. Unknowingly, he clenches his fists at his sides.

He wants her gone. He _needs_ her gone.

Today, he decides, he's going to do something about it.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick sits in front of one of the lab's computers, staring at a blank screen, a screen which he has been sitting in front for the last ten minutes. He's not supposed to do this. It's against the rules. It's selfish. Nick knows all this, but…_Kelly_. He frowns. When had he started calling her Kelly? When had she stopped being Gordon's daughter, the prisoner, that girl, and become something so much more personal?

She's driving him crazy. He really doesn't need another reason to question his sanity.

Nick squares his shoulders and brings up the program he wants, typing furiously. He looks intently at the information in front of him- Kelly's information. He grabs the pen from beside him and scribbles down her address onto a scrap of paper.

He considers ripping up the paper into tiny, crumpled pieces. Instead he places it delicately inside his pocket.

With one last glance over the screen, he shuts down the program.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick looks at the run-down apartment building in front of him.

Work seemed to have dragged by, each minute more defined than the last. The minute he could leave, he rushed over here.

He blinks when he realizes he's now in front of a door. Odd, he doesn't remember walking up the stairs or down the hall.

He takes in his surroundings once more. The hall is dark, with no windows and dim lamps being the only lighting. The grey-ish paint on the wall is old, faded and peeling. Nick idly wonders what color it's supposed to be. His gaze moves back to the door in front of him.

He takes a breath and knocks against the door softly.

After a few moments, he hears the click of a lock, and the door swings open.

Kelly stands before him, looking so entirely unsurprised that Nick wants to turn around and leave just to spite her. Instead he steps inside as she moves to the side to let him in.

The door closing behind him sounds so much louder than it is.

The apartment is small and empty. There are few personal items scattered about. Nick finds this incredibly sad for some reason. A lamp sitting on the bedside table illuminates the room, as thick blinds banish the sunlight.

"I don't know why I'm here." Nick quietly admits after a few minutes of silence.

Kelly looks up at him through long lashes.

"Yeah, you do." Her whisper is loud in the quiet. Nick hears the accusation and the simple truth and the understanding in the words.

"Why did you come to the lab?" he asks, his voice stronger than before.

She doesn't speak for a moment.

"You said not to take it with you," came the hesitant response. "But you have."

It wasn't said cruelly, only the concise stating of a fact.

Nick doesn't answer. His voice seems to have left him.

"It's part of us. We can't walk away from it." Kelly studies him warily as she speaks.

He's not sure if he flinched when she spoke that last statement.

The silence once again engulfs the room.

Nick's not sure what he was looking for by coming here or if he has found it.

He doesn't say anymore and leaves quickly, all the while trying to convince himself that he's not running away.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - - **_

Nick is fine when he goes back into work that night. Kelly isn't constantly intruding on his thoughts. The new case he is assigned to with Catherine gives him something to focus on. Everything is good.

"Here's our DB."

Yep, definitely a good day.

"Gunshot wound to the chest." Nick observes.

"Messy." Catherine mutters.

Nick kneels down next to the teenaged girl. She lies on the floor in her bedroom, looking so very heartbreakingly lifeless. Vacant eyes stare into nothingness, her head tilted to the side, with dark hair fanning out around her. She looks almost like a rag doll tossed aside.

"So, you want to take this room?" Catherine asks.

"Sure."

He picks up his kit and goes on to do his job.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick stares at the girl on the other side of the one-way mirror. She's crying hysterically, apologizing over and over to her dead friend, the one she killed.

Catherine leaves the interrogation room with a disgusted look on her face. They had taken the seventeen-year-old best friend of the victim in for questioning after eye witnesses stated that she was the last to be seen with the victim. The girl promptly confessed, breaking out into loud sobs. She explained that she did it because her friend had asked her to. Her friend was depressed, life only caused her suffering, but she was too scared to kill herself. When the victim asked her to pull the trigger she did, because the girl claims to have "loved her so much". She would have done anything for her friend, even kill her.

Nick feels ill. It's not because of what the girl in the interrogation room said, but because he understands exactly what she means. He almost envies the dead girl to have someone love her enough to do that.

How sick is that?

Nick rubs a hand tiredly over his face.

Catherine sighs as she comes to stand beside Nick, watching the girl.

"I'll never understand how someone's mind can get so twisted like that. To kill someone because you love them? I just can't get it."

Nick wants to scream at her. She doesn't understand, couldn't ever "get it". He knows it's not normal to be able to "get it" and it scares him that he does.

Nick thinks about Kelly for the first time in almost two weeks. He needs to see her again.

When Nick leaves an hour later, the address is still in his pocket, exactly where he had left it those two weeks ago.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

The last hour is a blur and Nick is almost surprised to find himself outside of Kelly's door, soaking wet and shivering from the rain.

He knocks on her door.

_Click. Creak. Woosh_.

Kelly opens the door. This time she smiles when she sees him; Nick imagines that smile must have been beautiful once. She's wearing a tank top and sweat pants. Kelly is a little too thin and a little too pale, but there's something incredibly alluring about her. She draws him in and he's not quite sure if he wants to fight it. Kelly steps aside and he thinks he hears her laugh.

_Woosh. Creak. Click. _

The door is closed, but this time it doesn't feel so restricting, so trapping.

Nick's not really sure he understands what happens next.

His soggy shirt is off, lying on the floor somewhere and cool air sweeps against him. All he can think is how cold it is, but then there are warm lips against him. Everything stops and moves at lightning speed all at once.

There are no words this time, only touch.

He leaves the apartment an hour later.

It's still raining, but this time the icy rain feels good against his flushed skin. He stands in the rain and closes his eyes, letting it wash over him.

When Nick goes to sleep a while later, the nightmares are not completely consuming.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick walks through the doors of the crime lab, a charming smile slipping easily into place. He greets his coworkers as he passes them in the halls.

_Hiya, Nicky._

_Hey, Stokes._

_Good to see you, Nick._

Everyone who works in the lab knows who he is. _Everyone_. He's Nick Stokes, the Man Who Was Buried Alive. Everyone saw the news or worked on his case or hears the gossip. Now, everyone wants to tell him how brave he is, how strong he is, how fan-fucking-tastic he is. Well, that's what they want to say to his face, anyways.

They think he doesn't know, but he hears the whispers.

_Did you hear, he was about to blow his brains out?_

_Gasp! Really?_

_Well, _I_ heard that he went crazy and started shooting up the box he was buried in. That's how the ants got in._

_I'll bet he has a meltdown any day now._

_Poor boy._

It's not the nasty rumors that bother him, it's the pity. For everything else he can take, he can't stand pity.

He's not a victim.

He has faced challenges in his life, he admits it. But he's always overcome those challenges. This is just another challenge to overcome.

He's not a victim.

The experience- his kidnapping, waking up in a glass coffin underground, being eaten alive- it's hasn't changed him. He's still the same person. He hasn't changed.

He's nota victim.

He's not weak. He won't ever let himself be weak.

"Hey there, Nick."

Nick flashes his teeth and nods.

He's not a victim. He's Nick Stokes and he's fan-fucking-tastic.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

It's another two weeks before Nick can bring himself to knock on the familiar door in the old, dirty apartment building.

Kelly opens it a few seconds later, hair strewn in her face and blank expression adorning her face.

Nick absently wonders if she ever goes out.

A terrible smile slowly forms on her lips as she registers who stands in front of her.

"Mr. Stokes?"

Taunting.

Nick doesn't say anything, but waits until she steps aside so he can enter.

"Kelly." He hates himself for sounding as lost as he feels.

Her gaze softens and she takes pity on him, taking him by the hand and leading him to sit on the bed. She lowers herself to sit beside him, knees touching. She flips her hair absentmindedly, honey locks slipping behind her shoulders. For a moment Kelly looks like a little girl with messy hair, wearing a sweater two sizes too big, legs kicking back and forth lightly.

She catches his stare and her expression changes again. The wicked grin is back.

"I believe you came here to do more than sit and stare." Her tone is almost mocking.

He feels a spike of anger.

"Yeah, I did."

And he leans in and captures her lips in a brutal kiss.

"Thought so." She says against his lips. His eyes are closed, but he can hear the smirk.

He ignores her cutting words and cruel smiles, and pushes her backwards onto the bed.

It's an hour later and he's gone, the prison and its willing prisoner left far behind.

He's in his car now, speeding down the streets.

He thinks he can faintly make out a stop sign as he tears by it.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - - **_

When Nick reached his home he had realized he was in desperate need of food, and since his cupboards were virtually empty, he hopped back in his car and came here, to the grocery store. Nick is on the frozen foods isle when the sounds of sniffles and muffled cries reach his ears. A little girl, about five or six Nick estimates, is sitting in the middle of the isle, knees tucked up to her chin and face buried in her sleeves. Nick hurries over to her and kneels down.

"Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong? Where's your mommy?" He asks gently.

Two watery blue eyes peek out from the folded arms.

"I-I-I don't know." Fresh tears begin to pour down the chubby face with the stuttered admission.

"Hey, hey now. Shhh. How about I help you find her, okay?" Nick smiles encouragingly as she studies him skeptically.

"You're a stranger." She points out.

"Well, yes, I am. And, usually, you should never go with strangers, but I work for the police. So, just this once, you can trust me." Nick coaxes.

She eventually nods and stands up to take Nick's hand.

"Alright, let's go find your mommy. What's your name?"

"Annabel. But almost everyone calls me Anna. Except Daddy, he calls me Bell. Or Ducky, but Ducky isn't short for Annabel, it's just something Daddy calls me. What's your name?" She babbles happily.

"Nick Stokes."

Annabel looks up at him and is quiet for a moment.

"You're tall." She says, staring at him.

"Well, uh, I guess I am." Nick chuckles.

As they turn down another isle, Annabel lets out a squeal and takes off running towards a short brunette woman, who currently looks very distressed.

"Mommy!"

The woman spins around.

"Anna! Oh, Annabel, you scared me! You can't go wandering off like that!" The woman exclaims, hugging her daughter close to her. The little girl bursts into tears, her renewed feelings of upset pouring out of her. Annabel starts stuttering about the experience and the nice, tall man who helped her. She sounds terrified at the memory of being separated from her mommy, and Nick has no doubt she is. The world is a scary place for lost little girls.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

It has been a hard day, a hard case. The case involved a murdered teenaged boy and a step-father who was obviously guilty, if only they could find some hard evidence. They finally found the step-father's bloodied sweater with the murder weapon wrapped in it. That was definitely enough to make a case. Now all the CSIs want to do is relax.

Warrick pulls a new t-shirt over his head.

"Hey, Nick, you coming out with Cath, Greg, and I for a beer?" Warrick asks, looking over to the shorter man.

Nick pauses.

"Uh, no thanks, man. I just wanna get home and go to bed." Nick answers.

"Alright, I'll see you later, man. Take care." Warrick says as the door closes behind him.

Nick looks at the closed door. He doesn't know why he told Warrick what he did. He isn't that tired, and he doesn't want to be alone, not tonight.

Nick stands up, stuffing his hands in his jacket pocket. His fingers brush against crumpled paper. He freezes, then pulls it out. The numbers and street name are faded, and the little scrap is wrinkled and torn almost beyond recognition. It doesn't really matter though, since he already has the address memorized.

He realizes why he didn't go with Warrick.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick stares at the door that has become oh-so-familiar. Metal numbers covered in flaking golden paint stand out on the wooden surface. He considers turning around and leaving right now, before this thing they have pulls him in any deeper.

The decision is made for him. As if by a twist of fate or twisted luck, the door swings open to reveal a frustrated-looking Kelly. Nick stares at her, dumbfounded, for a moment. Kelly stares back at him, but hers is an expression of mild surprise and curiosity.

"Well, I was going to go see my landlord to get him to fix the sink, but now that you're here I'll just use you." She says with a deceivingly sweet almost-smile.

Nick follows her into the apartment, but instead of going straight to the bed, he goes to the kitchen sink. Kelly raises an eyebrow in question when he looks at her. He gestures to the tools cluttered on the tiled floor. She nods in response. Nick gets down on his knees, looking at the pipes under the sink, while Kelly towers over him, standing a few feet away. Nick finds the problem quickly and fixes it within minutes.

"Good as new." Nick says, straightening himself.

Kelly is looking at him with a strange expression, one Nick can't quite place. He starts to grow uncomfortable with the silence that follows. When he begins to shift, Kelly moves forward to stand just a little too close.

"Wanna fuck?" The words are carefully pronounced and drawn out. Nick cringes at the crudeness, the coldness. He is willing to bet that she said what she said on purpose, probably just to see him squirm. He wants to say no and run far, far away. But her breath is caressing his cheek and he can feel the warmth radiating from her body and he's so damn cold. So instead of answering or running away, he grabs her face between her hands and pulls her forward in an unforgiving kiss.

A while later, as he gathers up his clothes and dresses, Kelly calls out after him.

"Call me."

She doesn't give him her number, knowing fully well that he can get it if he wants to.

When he gets home that night, he doesn't call. He doesn't call the next day either, or the next. He doesn't call at all because now that he's starting to get to know Kelly, he's pretty sure she was just joking.

_**To Be Continued **_


	2. Letting You Fall

White Carnations

Chapter 2

His next two visits go much like the first few. They have fallen into a routine of Nick showing up at Kelly's door at various hours of the day (or sometimes night) and then Nick leaving a few hours later. If lacking anything else, their relationship holds no lies. Neither bothers with empty promises, even when words are exchanged.

Nick sits on the edge of Kelly's bed, his shirt in a tangled ball beside him. He looks back at the woman lying on the other side of mattress. Kelly's hair is flopping over her face, as per usual, and she has hints of dark smudges under her eyes. Kelly never wears make-up, not that Nick minds really. He stops staring when she pokes him in the back with her toe. Kelly doesn't like being stared at any more than he does.

"Sorry." He mumbles.

Nick straightens out his shirt and slips it over his head. Nick stands and goes to pick up his jacket, lingering near the doorway. He runs his fingers over a slip of paper in his jeans pocket, considering whether to give it to Kelly or not. Tonight had been different. He has tomorrow (well, today technically) off. For the first time, Nick has stayed for the entire night. He didn't want to leave and she didn't kick him out, so he had stayed. Now he's standing awkwardly in her doorway considering what that means and how much he wants it to. Making his decision, he pulls out the folded paper and puts it on her bedside table and leaves quickly.

Kelly stares at the closed door before reaching over and investigating the little slip. She smiles softly, a sad reflection of happiness. She smoothes her thumb over the crinkled surface, then carefully places Nick's address back on the table.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

It's his day off and Nick is at home, scrubbing his floor until it's spotless. He's spent the last few hours vacuuming, washing, drying, sweeping, dusting, and his hands are aching terribly. Nick rises from soar knees and empties the bucket of soapy water in his laundry room sink. He wanders into the living room and carefully examines the state of it. Everything needs to be clean, needs to be perfect. Satisfied for the moment, he leaves to iron his shirt for tomorrow. The ironing is done with the same careful attention to detail as the rest of his cleaning. Every crease must be smoothed. He holds up the still-warm button-up shirt. Nick bites the inside of his cheek, deciding there's not much else he can do for it, before reluctantly putting it back on the hanger and hanging it on the door handle. Everything must be just right.

If everything is perfect on the outside, maybe it will cover the ugliness of inside.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick flips through the autopsy pictures of the murdered eight-year-old boy he's already scrutinized many times. The young boy was so tiny, swallowed up by the giant autopsy table. He's a work of perverse art- blues and purples and greens decorate the deathly pale skin with accents of red covering certain areas. He was found beaten to death in a dumpster, tossed aside like the garbage he was taught to believe he was. Nick clenches his jaw tightly, casting the pictures aside in disgust.

He was assigned the case along with Warrick and Sara. There were signs of long-term abuse, so they were suspecting someone the boy knew and spent time with. Their main suspect was the father, who didn't seem extremely upset over his child's death. Nick waits for Sara to return from the house of the victim.

"We found a match." Sara says, walking in. "One of the buckles of the father's belts matches marks left on the body. We even found some blood left on the buckle. Brass has the mother and father in for questioning. I'm going to go talk to the mother, you and Warrick have the father."

Nick nods in affirmation and sets off to the interrogation room.

When Nick walks into the room, the man is leaning back in the chair with a sour look on his face. Warrick is across from him, arms crossed over his chest casually while Brass is hunched in a corner. Nick forgoes the chair next to Warrick and goes to lean against the wall behind the suspect.

"We've found blood on one of your belt buckles that matches your son's." Warrick says.

"I don't know how that coulda got there." The man shrugs. Nick snorts in disbelief.

"Look, I've never hurt my son. I loved him." There's barely any feeling in the sentences. He didn't even bother putting any emotion into the lie. Nick feels a stab of renewed anger.

"Then why are there imprints of _your_ belt buckle all over his body?" Nick moves forward and grips the man's shoulder tightly, bending down to whisper viciously in his ear. "We've got you. We have proof. All those years of beating your son, you're going to pay for them now. You're done."

The man looks worried now. His brows are furrowed in pain. He'll have bruises from where Nick is grabbing him, but that just makes Nick smirk and tighten his hold, ignoring Warrick's disapproving frown.

They are interrupted at that moment when Sara opens the door, gesturing for them to follow her into the hall.

Nick grudgingly allows his hand to drop away and follows his colleagues into the hall.

"The mother is willing to testify against her husband." She has a triumphant look on her face. Nick knows how much these cases bother her, so he's happy they could get the bad guy this time.

"That's great." Nick smiles and it's almost real.

Sara grins, nodding, and goes back to the interrogation room to tell Brass.

As soon as the door closes, Warrick places a gentle hand on Nick's shoulder and guides him further down the hall to where there are no people.

"Nick," The taller man hesitates, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Nick pulls a painfully bright smile.

"I was, uh, wondering if you had seen someone for…what happened." Nick is instantly defensive.

"You mean a shrink, right?" He asks coldly. Warrick's flinch is enough of an answer. "Besides the psychological evaluation, no. I don't need one. I'm dealing just fine."

Warrick's look of sympathy just makes Nick angrier.

"You've been rougher with suspects lately. When you're on a case you snap at the lab techs. You haven't been coming out with us anymore either." Warrick explains. Nick stares at his friend incredulously.

"You think I'm nuts because I'm not hanging out with you as much?"

"That's not what I meant." Warrick's temper is starting to rise as well. "You're distancing yourself. We've all noticed."

"You guys are talking about me behind my back?" Nick's fists are clenched tightly at his sides.

"We were just worried. We think you should see someone about it."

It's normal to feel homicidal towards co-workers, right?

"I'm fine." Nick says through gritted teeth.

"You're not. What you went through…it's hard, man. You can't come away from that unaffected." At the answering silence, Warrick sighs, "How can I get you to go?"

"Let's flip a coin." Nick grins hollowly. Warrick freezes, his eyes widening. Ignoring his paling friend, he continues, "You win, then I'll go. And you always win, right?" Warrick looks sick, but Nick doesn't care as he turns sharply and leaves as if his friend wasn't slowly crumbling in the hall behind him.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

He's angry- with himself, with Warrick, with Gordon. He's angry when he pulls up in front of the apartment and he's angry when he's knocking on her door and he's angry as she's letting him in. He's angry as he grabs her arm and he's angry he pulls her over to the bed.

He would feel bad if she wasn't being just as rough. And _this_, this right now, is why he needs her. He can hurt her because she'll hurt him right back.

When his strong hands grip the sides of her face and his fingers run through her hair, the strands tangle and pull. Her nails dig into the soft flesh on his shoulders leaving crescent-shaped marks. He claims her mouth in a bruising kiss. She pulls back and bites him along his collar bone.

They're together because they know the other can understand. No one else would be able to. Different demons, the same hell. He always seems to be numb. But with her…What he has with her is all feeling.

He leaves a few hours later with stinging scratches across his back and various other darkening marks.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick comes in early and waits in the locker room for Warrick to arrive. When the other man does finally appear, he ignores Nick completely. The guilt and sadness he sees on his friend's face make Nick feel even worse.

"Warrick, about yesterday, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was upset. I don't like the idea of other people talking about me or that I'm being…observed. I'm not trying to use that as an excuse. I know you guys were just worried, but I _am_ dealing well. I'm fine, really." Nick pauses, but gets no answer from the other man. "What happened before…flipping the coin, it's not your fault. You know I didn't mean what I said, right?"

Warrick turns around to meet Nick's eyes.

"Yeah, it's fine." Warrick says coolly. But Nick knows they won't be on speaking terms for a while yet.

Warrick leaves the locker room without another word, Nick watching him go.

Forgiven, but never forgotten.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick sits in the back of the courtroom next to Catherine, awaiting the verdict on the girl they had just testified against. Nick stares at the girl's slumped form. Her shoulders are shaking and he knows she's crying, even though they haven't read the verdict yet. Catherine sits rigidly next to him. He knows Catherine is disgusted with the case. They had had the girl arrested a few weeks ago for killing her best friend. The girl insists she did it out of love, that it was assisted suicide and not murder. While Nick sympathizes with the distraught girl, he can never tell Catherine that. She has clearly expressed her opinion already. Nick barely hears the guilty verdict as it is announced, focusing on the hysterical girl who was just convicted. He wonders if Kelly cried when she was sentenced.

Hours later, Nick finds himself in front of Kelly's apartment.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

He waits, knowing Kelly will let him in. Soon enough, the said woman stands before him.

"Hey." Her voice gives nothing away.

"Hey."

She steps aside and he steps in. It's like a dance, he decides. Every time, they follow the steps in fear of stumbling.

_Step forward._

No words are spoken. They stare at each other, as if one of them would actually decide not to go through with it.

_Slide to the right._

Kelly pushes her hair to the side, causing it to tumble over her shoulder, covering one eye. Nick steps forward and hesitantly pushes it back behind her ear.

_Twirl._

Kelly tilts her head up and Nick tilts his down. Eyes close and lips crash against one another.

_Step backwards._

Kelly's hands find his shoulders and squeeze them tightly, leaving red imprints there.

_Slide to the left._

Nick grabs her waist brutally and guides her backwards to the bed.

_Spin._

As they lay together afterwards, Nick decides to add a step.

He stares at the woman next to him, wondering whether or not he should ask what he's been wanting to for so long. He watches her chest rise and fall, watches her eyelashes caress her cheeks as her eyelids flutter slightly, watches the beginnings of bruises appear. He watches and he knows that he can ask her what he needs to.

"Would you kill me if I asked you to?" His voice is quiet and rough. Nick holds his breath waiting for the answer. He feels a sense of déjà vu as his minds briefly wanders back to the courtroom he sat in not too many hours ago.

"Yes." The answer is definite, easy, exactly what he was hoping to hear.

Nick closes his eyes and allows the feeling of immense relief and something close to happiness wash over him.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Many people come up and talk to Nick now. A lot of them he doesn't remember meeting before. All of the short conversations go mostly the same.

Faceless Stranger: Hey, Nick. How are you?

Nick: I'm good.

_It hurts. _

Faceless Stranger: What have you been doing lately?

Nick: Nothing really.

_Dieing. Living. Wishing for both. Running from both._

Faceless Stranger: I hear you're back to work now.

Nick: Yeah. I'm glad to get back out in the field.

_I'm scared. _

Faceless Stranger: That's great.

Nick: Smile.

_Screaming._

Faceless Stranger: Well, it was nice to see you.

Nick: You too.

_Please don't leave._

Faceless Stranger: Talk to you later.

Nick: Bye.

_Save me_.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick pulls into a gas station and parks near the gas pump. He mechanically goes through the motions of filling the car. After the job is done he grabs his wallet and heads inside to pay when a hunched figure sitting near the side of the small building catches his eye. A woman with familiar dirty-blond hair and a grey mechanics uniform sits on the cold ground, legs drawn to her chest with one arm wrapped loosely around them.

"New job?" Nick asks, walking over to her.

"Mmm." She replies with (what Nick assumes is) the affirmative. Just as he becomes positive that she's going to ignore him, she speaks again. "I'm working here part time. I mostly help repair cars or clean up around the garage."

"I didn't know you knew a lot about cars."

"I learned in prison." A cold, terrible silence stretches between them following Kelly's deafeningly quiet statement. They had never mentioned anything like that- her time slowly dying in prison or his time slowly dying buried deep in the ground. They were forbidden subjects. Some wall had just been breeched, some thick red line crossed.

Nick leaves then, because, really, there is no possible response.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

It's six more days before Warrick and Nick talk to each other outside of necessity. Nick is looking over the lab results he had just received when Warrick walks in and comes to stand before him. Nick looks up at the other man expectantly.

"You want to grab breakfast after shift tomorrow?"

"Definitely." Nick can't keep the relief out of his voice.

"'Kay, see ya tomorrow. Take care." Warrick calls, walking out of the room.

"Always do." Nick mumbles to the empty room.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

A few days later, Nick is sitting at home, watching the Discovery Channel on mute and picking at the label on his half-empty beer bottle when his doorbell rings. He sluggishly makes his way to the front door and opens it warily. He relaxes when he sees the petite form standing before him. Large eyes stare up at him. He notes the knotted hair, ruffled clothes, blotched cheeks, arms protectively wrapped around the trembling body.

"Nick." His name is spoken with such desperation, such reverence.

He silently tugs the woman in, shutting and locking the door behind her. She stands before him, unsure and needing.

"Nicky." It comes out as a gasp. She never calls him by his nickname. He's not sure why anyone ever calls him that. He never introduces himself as such. He doesn't really like it, but he's grown used to it.

"Nicky." She whimpers again. He's not sure why everyone else calls him 'Nicky', but he knows why Kelly is. She's pleading with him.

"Come on."

Now it's he who leads the other through _his_ home and into _his_ bedroom.

Kelly lies with one hand resting across her forehead palm side up, staring up at him. Her eyes were burning into his- questioning, demanding, begging. Those eyes were the same eyes he stared into all those months ago when they were separated only by protective glass. His gaze shoots to her open hand. He brushes his fingers lightly over the flower embedded there. She flinches and immediately clenches her hand into a fist, hiding the petals with her fingers. He wasn't sure if it was a warning or merely a reflex. Either way, he ignores it and continues what they had started. Her fist stays tightened the whole time, nails digging into skin. If Nick notices, he doesn't mention it.

Later, she lies in his arms, his fingers playing through her hair.

"I used to be pretty, you know." Kelly's soft voice breaks the quiet. She still is rather pretty, but Nick knows what she means.

"I used to be strong." He replies. She nods against his chest.

Suddenly she rolls onto her side to face him.

"I used to be sane." She's grinning, but he knows she isn't joking.

"Me too."

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

"Can I get you any more coffee?" The waitress chirps, eyeing Nick (and not for the first time this morning).

"I'm fine, thanks." Nick answers.

"Alright then, shall I bring you the bill?"

"Please." Nick nods.

As the waitress leaves, Warrick smirks at his friend, who pointedly ignores him.

Nick pushes the remaining food around on his plate lazily. Warrick is gazing out the window they sit next to, allowing his eyes to wander the parking lot and surrounding area absently. Nick's own eyes are drawn to the table in front of him, particularly the object in the other man's hand. Warrick twirls a coin between his fingers, light bouncing off the silver surface sharply.

Heads. Flip. Tails. Flip. Heads. Flip. Tails.

The fingers finally still, leaving the coin to lay flat on the table. Nick manages to rip his eyes away from the gleaming coin, which sits so innocently taunting him, just as Warrick's stare moves back to him.

"So, man, what have you been up to lately? I haven't seen you around outside of work for a while." Warrick asks.

"Nothing interesting. I've just been hanging around the house, watching the Discovery Channel and cleaning." Nick shrugs.

"You need a life, my friend." Warrick shakes his head in amusedly. Nick roles his eyes and continues to play with his food.

The waitress with the never faltering smile hops back to them, placing the bill on the table. Nick smiles in thanks and waits for her to leave, looking back up when she doesn't move.

"Um, I don't want to be too forward, but, I was, ugh, wondering if you would want to give me a call sometime?" She tilts her head to the side, allowing auburn hair to fall over her shoulder. She's a beautiful woman with long legs and intense emerald eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not really looking for a girlfriend right now." Nick says sincerely.

He's not quite sure why he turns her down. All he knows is that he has no intention of letting go of Kelly. Even if they don't have the most…conventional relationship, he could never cheat on the woman he's with. That's just not what good boys do.

He cringes as he sees the dazzling eyes fill slightly with embarrassed tears. He _really_ hates to see women cry. Well, with the exception of Kelly. Kelly is prettiest when she cries.

"Oh, okay. Right, well, I'll be back for the bill in a minute." She says as she scurries away. Nick watches her go guiltily.

"Dude, why'd you turn her down?" Warrick asks incredulously. Nick just shrugs once again. "You need a girl to get you out of that funk your in."

"I'm not in a funk." Nick insists glumly.

"Whatever, man. I just don't get why you'd turn her down. She seemed like a nice girl."

Nick almost laughs. He had a girl, though she was anything but a "nice girl".

"I'm just not interested in anything heavy right now. It's hard to start a relationship with the hours we have. I'd rather focus on my job right now." And for a moment Warrick looks as if he will object, but he just nods, accepting the lies as he has so many times before.

"Hey, how's Tina doing anyway?" Nick asks, successfully changing the subject.

"Tina's good." Warrick doesn't elaborate further and Nick wonders if the marriage is finally stating to fall apart.

The waitress returns with a little less pep and collects the bill, wishing both men good day.

"Well, I had better be getting home. See ya tomorrow, 'Rick." Nick says, walking over to his car.

"Yeah, take care, Nicky."

Nick waits until Warrick leaves the parking lot before starting to head towards Kelly's apartment.

He knocks and waits for the familiar sounds of the locks clicking undone. Thin arms grab him roughly, pulling him into the perpetually dark apartment.

"C'mon, we've gotta be fast. I'm on shift soon." She says, already starting to undress.

Nick isn't about to object and pulls his shirt over his head.

There are quick touches, fleeting kisses, and less blood and bruises than usual.

As they lay catching their breath afterwards, Nick pulls Kelly into his arms. She lets him.

"I was at breakfast with Warrick. The waitress asked me out." Nick says. She doesn't reply. "I said no." He doesn't know why, but he needs her to know this.

Kelly remains quiet, tracing circles on his chest with her nails, hard enough to hurt faintly, but lightly enough not to leave marks. Finally she lets out a sigh, which is a mixture of amusement and contentment.

"You're so naïve." Kelly has called him this more than once in the past. He never understands why, but never bothers contesting the statements.

"Warrick thinks I'm crazy…Or maybe gay." She laughs at that. He's surprised that the sound isn't as unpleasant as he would have thought.

"I'm you dirty little secret." She teases.

"You're my favorite secret." Nick replies playfully.

"And how many secrets do you have, Nick?" Her tone lowers seductively.

"More than I'll ever tell you." The gentle whisper contrasts the harsh statement.

She rolls away reluctantly and begins to dress, with Nick following suit. She pauses suddenly and moves over to the window, ripping open the blinds. Nick moves to stand behind her. Light streams in, hitting both of them.

"Isn't the sky pretty in the morning?" Kelly looks out the window at the world below.

She wonders what it would be like to jump.

"It is." Nick smiles.

He feels like his face is burning off, the skin tearing away.

Her fingertips run along the scarlet scratches on his arms. His hand grips her right hip, pressing against a covered bruise softly.

She presses a hand flat against the windowpane.

Nick thinks maybe they're only fooling themselves.

"You'd never be able to catch me." She whispers.

Nick thinks maybe they're bad for each other.

"I wouldn't try." He promises.

Nick thinks maybe they belong together.


	3. Happily Ever After

White Carnations

Chapter 3: Happily Ever After

Nick watches Grissom out of the corner of his eye as he passes his boss in the hallway. Grissom gives him a nod in recognition as Nick sends him a small wave. Both continue on their opposite ways. No words are spoken. Nick finds he's been talking less and less with those he works with, especially with Grissom. Whereas, before, Nick had always felt comfortable with Grissom, now it is like he can't stand to be around the man. He has been trying, as subtly as possible, to avoid his boss since he started the affair with Kelly. Nick has the irrational fear that Grissom will be able to read his mind and learn his every disturbing secret if he spends enough time with his superior. He's _Grissom_; he would just know. Grissom has always been a sort-of-superhero in his mind. Nick can't stand the thought of Grissom knowing.

Nick comes to a halt mid stride. At this moment, Nick realizes something that absolutely terrifies him. If Grissom knew, it would disappoint him. And Nick doesn't care if he does. He can't stand the thought of Grissom knowing because it would mean confirming what Nick doesn't want to admit- he's changed. He's not untouched, he's not unaffected, he's not the same. Nick has _known_ he has changed for a long while now, but he's never _admitted_ it.

Nick swiftly spins around and hurries into the men's room, closing himself in a stall. He rolls up his sleeve and looks at the lines of red decorating the skin there. They're from _her_, her nails digging into his arm.

He stands there, leaning against the closed door, staring at his arm as if seeing the marks for the first time.

He's not sure how much time has passed before he pushes his sleeve back down and leaves the bathroom, returning to the task that had been interrupted by his thought a few moments ago.

He had come to a decision, locked up in that stall. He had decided that he was never going back to Kelly again. He doesn't realize until much later that that was no longer his decision to make.

Nick lasts approximately three days until he begins to lose focus, his mind constantly wandering.

Two more days pass when Nick snaps and punches a suspect in the jaw and gets chewed out by Brass.

Four days go by with Nick avoiding everyone in the lab. That is, until Greg stumbles upon him and gets his head bitten off for making a typical quirky Greg comment.

It takes Nick a day to get up the nerve to apologize.

It's takes two more days for Greg to stop giving him the silent treatment and for Sara to stop giving him confused glares.

It's three days later and Nick is desperately trying to ignore the concerned looks Catherine and Warrick keep sending his way in hopes of hanging onto his sanity for a little bit longer.

It's another two days before Nick admits he has a problem- he's going into withdrawal.

It's three hours later that Nick finds himself in front of the building that is familiar yet alien with the ugly-pretty girl in the apartment that is big enough to be suffocating.

Kelly looks so different, yet exactly the same. Nick doesn't move to come in and she doesn't move to let him. Kelly looks at him and Nick can tell that she knows she has him now. He knows it too. But it's okay, because he has her too, and she knows it.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick scrunches up his nose in disgust.

"That's just gross." He mumbles to himself as he pulls the dirty shirt over his head.

Warrick turns to look at his friend, spotting the dark mark on the discarded shirt.

"What is that?"

"Dead chipmunk. Don't ask. Just…don't." Nick glares at the offending stain. He really likes chipmunks. And he _really _liked that shirt.

"Ooookay," Warrick drawls. He is about to turn back around to his locker when he notices strings of scarlet up and down his friend's back. His brows furrow in concern until realization dawns upon him. Warrick begins to chuckle in surprised amusement. Nick turns and instantly realizes what the other man was staring at. He can't help but send a smirk which causes the taller man to raise both eyebrows in a silent question. Nick nods in confirmation and Warrick pats him on the back, shaking his head ruefully.

"Nice. Very nice. Whatever happened to having no time for a relationship?"

"I couldn't stay away from her." Nick responds truthfully. Though, it's not really a _relationship_ per se, he thinks to himself. A relationship needs to grow and this relationship never can. This relationship is all about the past- past mistakes, past hurt. They don't even realize it but they're trapping themselves in the very thing they're trying to escape through each other.

Nick allows his thoughts to drift as his friend leaves the locker room.

He and Kelly don't have a normal "relationship". He is the first to admit that. When they're angry, they go to each other. They both end up with darkening marks afterwards, but that's just the way their arrangement works. He doesn't ever have to feel guilty (even if some little part of him always does) because she is just as rough, just as cruel, just as lost. He thinks she's saving him from drowning, but really, now they're just drowning together.

He goes into work wearing long sleeves because there are scratches covering his arms. She wears turtlenecks because there are bite marks all along her collarbone. He tries not to undress in front of his colleagues because there are bruises covering his shoulders. She never wears low-cut pants or belly-tops because there are fingerprint-shaped marks along her waist. Some people may consider these markings ugly, but Nick thinks there is something incredibly beautiful about them. He needs these as reminders, and he's pretty sure Kelly does too.

Nick thinks he's come to care for her in some warped way. The other day, in a moment of terrible passion, he told her that he loved her. She slapped him. He's not sure why. He doesn't think even she knows why. So, they continue on with their depraved romance, not even trying to lie with sweet words.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - - **_

Kelly shows up at Nick's door a little before eleven p.m. It's his night off and he had planned to spend a quiet evening of reading, but when Kelly says, "let's go out for drinks" Nick just nods and follows her out.

The bar is crowded and smoky. There are a number of people who have already drank more than their fair share and are now stumbling around the room or talking much too loudly with their friends.

"C'mon, Stokes, you're paying." Kelly says, taking a seat at the bar. Nick, the gentleman that he is, obliges and hands over some bills to the bartender.

"You come here a lot?" Nick asks, finding himself genuinely curious. He has noticed Kelly doesn't like to go out if she doesn't absolutely have to. She's the definition of anti-social, but Nick supposes he has no place to talk, as he himself has not been much of a social butterfly lately.

"Nope."

Ah. Right. Well then.

"So, we gonna get drunk?" Nick asks, strangely uncomfortable with the silence.

"Yup."

Nick looks down at the whiskey sitting before him. The silence was back and Nick is scared he's going to start thinking deep, life-assessing thoughts, and right now he would really prefer not to.

"Just drink your drink, Nick." Kelly's voice, slow and gentle as if talking to a child, cuts in.

Nick nods and lifts his glass.

Almost two more hours full of drinking and sitting and silence, and Nick is beginning to become restless…as well as more than a little drunk.

"Life sucks." He grumbles.

"Why yes, yes it does." Kelly replies.

"A lot." Nick says shortly, because, in his mind, that was an important point to add to his earlier statement. Not to mention the ability to recognize proper sentence structure was long gone. He takes another swig of his drink before turning to look innocently at Kelly. "How come all that bad stuff happened to us?"

"I guess we're just lucky." Nick can't help but burst out into hysterical laughter at the statement as Kelly grins wildly.

"I think I'm kinda drunk." Nick says when he calms down.

"Yeah," Kelly muses. "Me too."

"I think we should leave now." Nick drops some bills on the table and stands, placing his hand on Kelly's shoulder to guide her. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

The walk is quiet and sobering. A chilling wind rushes at them as they trudge down the street. Fluorescent lights illuminate their path, making up for the unseen stars. Girls in far too little clothing stand on the street corners. Bodiless voices can be heard whispering in dark allies. Men lean against the brick wall of a club, money being exchanged for baggies of powder. Nick wonders when this all became so normal.

Nick remembers his tenth grade history teacher once saying, "We are all dieing from the moment we are born." He remembers thinking how cynical that was, how he was never going to let his view of the world become so distorted. He wonders when he changed.

They reach the apartment, both considerably more clear-headed. They linger at the doors of the building, waiting for something neither are sure of. Finally, Kelly motions for Nick to follow her up to her apartment. He trails behind her obediently. As he climbs the endless flight of stairs he remembers when he was a little boy how his mother would read him story books and tell him fairy tales.

_Once upon a time there lived a prince…_

_Once upon a time there lived a princess…_

Kelly unlocks the door and they both step out of the lighted hallway into the gentle arms of the dark. Nick takes off his jacket and slips of his shoes, stumbling slightly, the alcohol affecting him more than he would admit. Kelly clasps his hand in hers and drags him over to the bed.

_The prince was kind and good, and all the people of the Kingdom loved him…_

_The princess was beautiful and sweet, and she was adored by all the creatures of the enchanted forest…_

He places a soft kiss on her rosy lips. She leans into his warmth. They fall into a rare embrace, both content to just lean on the other, allowing the alcohol and darkness to soothe them.

_Then, one day, the prince was captured by the evil sorcerer…_

_Then, one day, the princess stumbled upon a horrible dragon…_

They break apart. Kelly backs away slowly and lies down against cool sheets. Nick crawls over to her and leans above her, staring down into her eyes and all he can see is blackness.

_The prince fought and fought the evil sorcerer with all his might…_

_The princess waited and waited to be saved…_

She grabs his hair suddenly, roughly tugging on it. He kisses her again, but this time he bites her lip. The first bead of blood forms on her bottom lip. He licks it away before it can fall.

_And he defeated the evil sorcerer and went off to save his princess…_

_And her prince charming came and whisked her away to his castle…_

Sharp nails draw crimson trails down his arms. He lets his forehead rest against hers for a moment and neither move. The darkness kisses their heated skin and the quiet viciously assaults their ears. Lips meet again angrily.

_They both lived happily ever after._

There are tears now, but neither knows who is crying.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Tick.

Nick sits in the dim light of his living room, staring at the clock on the wall opposite him. He watches in fascination as the longer hand moves to the 12, indicating it is now four a.m.

Tick.

His eyes slide over to phone beside him. The little red light is flashing, which means he has messages. He stares fixatedly at the blinking light until reaching out and pushing a few buttons. His eyes travel back to the clock as he waits with the phone to his ear for the message to start.

Tick.

"Nick, sweety, it's Mom. I haven't heard from you in two weeks now. I was just wondering how you were doing? It would be nice to hear from you. Call me back soon, Nicky. Bye now."

Click.

Silence.

"If you would like to save this message, press 6. If you would like to delete-"

Beep.

"Message is deleted. There are no new messages." Nick lowers his hand onto his lap.

Tick.

His mother has been calling regularly ever since the incident. She calls almost every week, but never once does she mention what happened.

Tick.

He hasn't answered or returned one of her calls in three weeks. Maybe this is cruel, but he can't stand another shallow conversation of skittering around issues. She's smothering him and it's only making him push away like a rebellious teenager.

Tick.

He runs his thumb over the phone still resting in his hand. Perhaps he'll call her… No. Maybe tomorrow. After all, things will always look brighter tomorrow. Tomorrow is always better than today. He's been waiting for tomorrow for a very long time. But until it gets here, he can settle for living in today.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - - **_

Nick stares into empty eyes, like those of the many corpses he sees. Sometimes Nick almost mistakes Kelly for a corpse. When she's lying in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling unblinkingly, with pale skin and lips parted as if gasping for breath, he almost forgets that's she still alive. For a moment, he thinks he's back at work, at a crime scene, examining the next new victim.

"Stop." It's close to a hiss and Nick quickly averts his eyes, knowing how much Kelly hates it when he stares at her like that.

Kelly brings her lips to his a hard kiss. Nick closes his eyes and allows himself to get lost in the sensations.

Kelly brings her hand to his arm and instead of pinching or scratching, she runs her fingers lightly along his arm. And suddenly, Nick's back _there_ and all he can feel is the crawling. With a cry, he pushes Kelly away, knocking her into her dresser. She stares up at him unapologetically. There's a moment of silence before she stands and they continue what they had started.

Once Kelly is asleep, Nick slips out and returns half an hour later, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Catherine meets Nick as he walks through the doors of the lab.

"Hey, Nicky, we've got a case." Catherine holds up a folder.

"Great." Nick follows Catherine back out of the lab. They drive to a parking garage where they are greeted by two officers.

"Sylvia Mullins, an accountant who works in the building." An officer says, motioning to the corpse in the car behind him.

Nick nods and begins to examine the body with Catherine.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick stares blankly at the computer before him.

Lies.

Sylvia Mullins was in charge of Gordon's finances. Kelly had met with her (_the day that she was killed_, a little voice in the back of his head reminds). He tightens his fists. He wants to scream angry questions: Why couldn't she have left it behind? Why did she have to take it with her? Why couldn't she just let go? But he doesn't because he knows why.

All this time Nick had thought that their saving grace was that their relationship was honest. They never lied to each other. Now, Nick realizes they did lie to each other. They still are. They never lied with sweet nothings or romantic notions. They never lied about happiness, but they lied about every other single thing.

He understands why she always calls him naïve.

He fiddles with the tape in his hand. It is the tape left by Gordon…and someone else, according to Archie and Grissom. There is someone else's voice on that tape. Someone else helped put him down there in that maddening prison. Someone else helped to torture him, and no one thought to tell him. He should be furious with Grissom for this- this betrayal. He should be, but what right does he have?

"Hey, Nick, any leads?" Catherine asks, breezing into the room.

Nick moves his gaze to the autopsy report next to him.

"Yeah, one."

Sylvia Mullins is dead and Nick is pretty sure Kelly is the one who killed her.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick sags tiredly in the break room chair, munching on an apple and allowing his mind to wander.

"Heya, Nicky. How's the case going?" Warrick's deep voice distracts him from his thoughts. Nick turns to see his friend take a seat next to him.

"Not too bad. Archie is still working on the security tape, and Catherine is with Sophia, picking up our suspect right now." Warrick nods briefly.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before a teasing smirk spreads across Warrick's face.

"So, you going to see your girlfriend tonight?" Nick shakes his head.

"She's mad at me."

"Why?"

"I gave her flowers." Warrick's brows shoot up.

"Uh-huh. Dude, that's fucked up."

Nick grins.

"It really is."

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick stands against a wall, watching as Sophia and Catherine escort Kelly into the interrogation room. Kelly isn't struggling or crying or confessing. She's blank. Her eyes sweep over him and she flashes her teeth. He must be forgiven, he decides, as he follows the three women into the room. Catherine casts a look his way, but Nick waves it off, wordlessly assuring her that he will be fine.

Kelly is sat down in an uncomfortable plastic chair. Her body is slumping, folding into itself, while her facial expressions and the air about her contradict the nervous posturing. She knows what she is doing. She's been here over and over and over again. She knows this game, she knows the rules, and she wants to win. But Nick, he knows this game too, better than Kelly does, and he knows he will win.

"Ms. Gordon, do you know why you are here?" He feels as if he is someone else, an actor playing the role.

"No, I don't know why." Kelly's voice is so confused and so innocent that Nick has to stop himself from laughing aloud.

"Sylvia Mullins was found dead, run over by her own car." Nick says seriously, taking on a tough-cop persona, only not really, because Kelly can see through him and his lies every single time.

"Oh. I'm sorry, but is that supposed to be significant to me?" She speaks a little more coldly than she means to. Nick is vaguely disappointed. He had thought that she would have been able to play act a little better than this.

"She used to work for your father." Nick stresses the word, feeling some pride in the way she cringes. "She handled his financial affairs after he died."

"Oh. I didn't know that. I haven't had much to do with my father for quite a while. You knew that." She directs the comment to Catherine. Nick had almost forgotten she was there.

"You met with her the day she was killed." Catherine says.

"So?" Kelly returns in monotone, ignoring the fact that she has just been caught in her own lie.

Neither of the CSIs nor the detective reply. They can't arrest her; they don't have any hard evidence against Kelly, only a strong suspicion. Kelly catches Nick's eyes, and they lock gazes, coming to a silent understanding.

"Catherine, Sophia, I'd like to talk to Ms. Gordon alone." Kelly isn't going to talk to anyone else, but at least Nick has a chance at breaking through her defenses.

Catherine is hesitant, but, trusting Nick, gives in and leaves. Sophia follows the other woman's lead, exiting the room.

"Ms. Gordon, would you please tell me what you met with Ms. Mullins about?"

"We discussed the arrangements my father made for after his death."

"I see. How did your meeting go?"

"Fine."

"Did Ms. Mullins seem…off to you? Scared? Upset?"

"No, she seemed perfectly fine, but then again, I don't really know the woman."

Words shoot back and forth. Each play the game, always striving for the match point. At the same time, both tread carefully, knowing that Catherine is still watching and listening.

"Did you see anyone suspicious around her office? Anything that seems out of the norm?"

"No." She won't give in and he's not sure if he should feel relieved or angry.

"I see. Well, I don't have anymore questions for you at this time." Kelly moves to stand up, but as she does, Nick leans towards her menacingly. "Know this: I _am_ going to find the evidence you've left and when I do, I'm sending you right back to prison."

"No, Mr. Stokes, you never will." He thinks she's mocking him, not understanding she is merely promising a goodbye.

The flow of adrenalin begins to slow as his anger (towards Kelly, what she's done, what she is, what he's done, what he is) dissipates.

He wills his thoughts to reach her, concentrates on creating a temporary psychic connection with the woman before him. Why did you do it? He wants to ask the question, but just can't. It wouldn't matter even if he did; she wouldn't answer.

Sophia interrupts the moment as she reenters the room, tugging Kelly out of the interrogation room. The interview is over. He watches the door closing behind Kelly, blocking her from his sight. Nick is left alone, mourning the storybook ending they can never have.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

Nick goes back to Kelly that night, to her apartment, to her bedroom. Sorrow temporarily pushed aside, Nick goes to the girl he dares to call his, refusing to acknowledge that little voice that tells him this is going too far, this is too far from what is right. She's a suspect. _She's a murderer_, the voice corrects. He has no doubt that this is hurting them; he can't bring himself to care.

He notes the crumpled flowers on the floor. They lay there sadly, grotesquely withered and utterly destroyed.

She doesn't mention anything about today, neither does her. He kisses her like he has so many times before and she kisses him right back as she always does. There is something different about today, though. It's not more gentle or loving. It's not more bruising or hateful. It is the end. It's something bittersweet, though more bitter than sweet. Nick wonders if he is ready for tomorrow to arrive; he's not so sure he is anymore.

The only thing spoken is a whisper, "Would you kill me if I asked you to?"

"Yes," comes the steady, practiced reply.

The words, their own twisted version of "I love you", die in the ever-blackened room.

_**- - - - - - - - - - - -**_

It is the very next day that Archie calls Catherine and Nick to his lab. He's found something on the security tape- a hand. They watch the video, see the hand which can only belong to her. It was such a stupid move that Nick wonders if perhaps Kelly actually wants to be caught. He has his evidence, just as he threatened (promised?). He even has the motive- Mullins was stealing money from Gordon, cheating Kelly out of what she thought she deserved. Even more surprising, she was the other voice on the recording left by Walter Gordon. Nick's sure he should care (be angry she had walked free for so long or at least happy she is dead), but he just can't seem to find the energy.

Nick doesn't feel any of the emotions he thought he would as he drives with Catherine and Sophia to Kelly's apartment. In fact, he doesn't feel much of anything at all. He only feels…expectant, he decides. Yes, he feels expectant as one would when awaiting the ending scene of a movie.

He takes the lead, running up the stairs two at a time. The two blonde women are not far behind. He doesn't even pretend to have to look for her apartment number, going straight to the door he knows is hers. He doesn't bother knocking, just turns the doorknob, knowing, for some inexplicable reason, that this time it will be unlocked.

Kelly is sitting propped up on the bed. To Nick, even with the same pale skin and corpse-like eyes, she looks more alive now than she has any other time before. He walks further into the room, faintly registering the two presences entering behind him.

He sees the empty pill bottle and he knows. He ignores the stares and kisses her- a goodbye, a thank you, an apology, all wrapped into one. When he pulls away, Kelly shakily lifts her hand to his cheek.

"I did it for you, Nick."

He laughs, because he just can't cry.

"No. You didn't."

She grins and allows her eyes to drop shut. She dies smiling, which somehow is just so perfect that it makes Nick smile too.

He isn't sad. Maybe he should be, but he isn't. Death is such a divine mercy, life too cruel a punishment. She could never be fixed. He thinks maybe he can be saved though, because while she was absolutely shattered, he is merely broken.

Nick begins to leave as Sophia starts chest compressions. He doesn't try to save her, letting her go just as he promised he would.

He walks all the way back down the flight of dirty stairs and pushes the door open, stepping into the morning. The sun is shining as he leaves and for the first time in a very long time, it doesn't burn. He thinks he'll give his mom a call tonight. It's finally tomorrow.


End file.
